


Ain't We Proud

by disgustinglyperfect



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, WW2, someone might die i haven't decided yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-03 03:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16754806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgustinglyperfect/pseuds/disgustinglyperfect
Summary: A Newsies WW2 au mostly inspired by me listening to Bandstand for four months straight.





	1. January 1942 - Katherine

“Jack, I cannot believe that you are actually doing something this stupid!” Katherine shouts.

“Kath, I can’t believe you ain’t seein’ how important this is!” Jack replies.

They stand on the rooftop of the Newsboys’ Lodging House. It’s January, 1942. One month since the United States entered the war. Five minutes since Jack Kelly told Katherine Pulitzer about the letter he received telling him he had been drafted into the United States military.

“Important?” Katherine hisses. “You call sailing across the ocean and getting shot important?”

“Katherine, we gotta serve our country.” Jack leans back against the low wall. 

“We? You’ve roped other boys into this, too?” Katherine is almost shrieking now. All manners have been thrown away. She’s desperate. She can’t let her boys be killed. “Who?”

“They was the ones who suggested it. Davey, Specs, Race, even Spot.” Jack says. “They all wanna help.”

“You… y… you….” Katherine tries to speak, but she’s gasping for air. She moves towards Jack. “You’re all going…”

She falls into Jack’s arms, sobbing hysterically. Her whole body is shaking, and Jack slowly runs his hands up and down her back and over her hair.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Kath.” He murmurs. “It’s okay.”

Katherine’s throat is sore, but she speaks through her tears. “I ca-can’t let you go. I can’t watch you die.”

“Kath, I’ll write. We all will. Every day. I promise, I never let any of these boys die before, an’ I sure as hell ain’t startin’ now.” Jack says.

Katherine pulls back but keeps her arms around Jack, looking into his deep eyes. “Who’s gonna deliver the paper if you leave?”

Jack snorts. “That’s what you’re worried about?” He thinks for a moment, “Well, geez, Crutchie can’t come with us, so he’s stayin’. Les is too young. Some o’ the other kids, too, I guess.”

Katherine scowls, which makes Jack laugh again.

“It’ll be good for ‘em. Y’know I ain’t gonna be a newsboy forever, and they gotta learn to handle themselves.” Jack says.

“If you weren’t such an idiot, I’d kiss you.” 

“When did that ever stop ya before?” Jack grins. Katherine rolls her eyes and leans into him, connecting their lips gently.

When she pulls away, she sighs. “Is there anything at all that I can say to make you stay?”

Jack smiles sadly. “I wish there was, but if we want the war to be over as soon as possible, ol’ Roosevelt needs as many boys as he can get over there.”

Katherine nods. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t true.”

Jack just pulls her in for another hug. The two stand there, out on the rooftop, for as long as they can bear, holding onto each other as if it were their last time.


	2. March 1942 - Katherine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You boys be safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do-” She says.
> 
> “- And don’t do anything Jack would do.” Davey finishes for her, with a knowing smile. “We know, Kath.”

Katherine stands at the docks, watching as a thousand men file onto the enormous steam ships that are to take them across the Atlantic. Katherine shudders in the cold ocean breeze, drawing her coat tightly around her. Crutchie stands beside her, shivering slightly. Les is on her other side, his hand in the crook of her elbow.

“Well, we should be goin’”. Jack says behind her.

Katherine turns around to face him, and finds Davey, Specs, and Race standing behind him, all in brown coats, with their hair cut short. Her eyes feel heavy, and she steps forward, bringing her body flush with Jack’s, as she throws her arms around his neck.

She feels him take a deep breath, and she does the same, trying to absorb as much of the moment as she can. A porter blows his whistle, and the pair tighten their grips around each other.

“Jack… You know I hate to do this, but…” Davey says quietly.

Jack and Katherine pull apart slightly, to look in each others’ eyes.

“Come home. Please.” Katherine murmurs.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack replies. They kiss deeply, then pull apart for good. Katherine turns to Davey, sniffling. She fumbles with the collar of his jacket, straightening and dusting it off. 

“You boys be safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do-” She says.

“- And don’t do anything Jack would do.” Davey finishes for her, with a knowing smile. “We know, Kath.”

Katherine returns the smile sadly. “If I don’t receive a letter from each of you every week, I will sail over there and smack you all personally.”

The boys chuckle. Katherine watches as Jack and Davey hug Crutchie. Les tries to maintain his big kig composure, but he can’t stop himself from jumping into Davey’s arms and wrapping his legs around the lanky boy.

“Last call! All soldiers come aboard!” 

Jack, Davey, Specs, and Race shoulder their bags and give one last smile. They turn down the dock and walk toward the boat. Katherine, standing between Crutchie and Les, feels each of their hands slide into hers. She squeezes them, trying to breathe through the wave of light-headedness and weight in her heart.

The trio walks towards the end of the wooden platform. The ship sounds its foghorn and begins to rumble away from the dock. Four boys run out to the rear deck and wave at Katherine.

As Katherine waves back, Jack cups his hands around his mouth and shouts something. Over the crowd, she can just make out a faint but passionate “I love you.”


	3. June 1942 - Katherine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine closes the door to her apartment with a sigh. The room is cold and dark, and Katherine completely misses the small pile of letters on the floor just inside her front door. She steps on it and almost loses her balance.

Katherine presses the last button on her typewriter and sighs. The spectacles she’s recently been prescribed seem to dig into the sides of her head. She takes them off and rubs the bridge of her nose.

“Closing time, Kath?” Bill Hearst, Katherine’s best friend, asks, poking his head into her office.

“I suppose so. I finished my last article.” Katherine says, pushing herself back from her desk and standing, relishing the feeling of her straightened legs. “No more excuses.”

“Excuses?” Cal asks.

“Ever since Jack left, there’s been a lack of young boys showing up on my fire escape. Since I moved out of my father’s estate and into my own apartment, it’s been much too quiet for my liking.” Katherine talks as she pulls on her overcoat. “Not that Jack and I were living together, of course, but he would visit me nearly every night.”

Katherine laughs at herself. She and Bill walk out of her office, and Katherine locks the door behind her. The pair turns to walk down the long hallway towards the elevator. “Of course, if my father heard about that, he’d positively crucify me.”

“Kath.” Bill says.

“But I guess that is the one good thing that comes from this separation. With an ocean between Jack and I, my father has taken a break from breathing down my neck.” Katherine continues.

“Katherine.”

“That leaves me to my work. I’ve been able to nearly triple my article output in the past month.” 

“Katherine Ethel Pulitzer!” Bill exclaims. Katherine stops in surprise. She looks at her best friend and sees a face of frustration and concern. Bill takes a deep breath, then continues, “Would you listen to yourself? You’re wearing yourself thin! You’re skin and bones, and there are bags under your eyes.”

“Thank you?” Katherine mutters.

“Clearly, Jack’s absence has affected you. You’re losing your mind. Honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t shipped you off to Blackwell!” Bill says.

Katherine stays silent.

“Listen, Kath, I know you’re a fighter. I know you can’t sit and let the world turn past you. But I think that you should take some time off. You’re way ahead of schedule. Take a vacation. Visit the boys.” Bill says, holding his arm out for Katherine. He leads them to the elevator.

“I suppose you’re right. I haven’t seen Crutchie or Les in weeks. And if you really think I’m that far ahead…”

“Katherine, I refuse to give you a new story for an entire week.” Bill presses the elevator button, smiling, “And I’ll be sure to tell every editor, photographer, and newshound to do the same.”

Katherine puffs out a breath of air as they step into the elevator. “Fine. Maybe I’ll take a nap.”

“Cook yourself a meal. A real meal, none of that take out food. And do some laundry. You’ve worn that blouse every day this week.” Bill prattles on.

“Okay, Bill, I get it.” Katherine cuts in. “Thank you for watching out for me.”

The elevator dings and the gate rattles open. The pair walk out to the front of the building, where Katherine’s car sits waiting for her; one of her father’s conditions of her moving out of his house.

“If anything happens to you, call me.” Bill says. “Anything.”

Katherine nods and steps into her car, shutting the door. Bill waves at her as the driver pulls away from the building.

~&~

Katherine closes the door to her apartment with a sigh. The room is cold and dark, and Katherine completely misses the small pile of letters on the floor just inside her front door. She steps on it and almost loses her balance.

“Damn it.” She curses under her breath, bending down to pick up the envelopes. “Bills, payments, flyers.” Her eyes land on a thick envelope, and scrawled across the front in rushed, messy handwriting is her name. It’s from Jack.

Katherine tosses the other mail onto her kitchen table and rips the letter open, not even bothering to keep the envelope intact.

_Dear Kath,_

_Sorry I ~~ain’t~~ haven’t been writing. We don’t get a lot of free time over here. Davey’s helping me write this, so if I sound smarter than usual, that’s why. Anyways, I miss you. They don’t have many girls over here, and the ones they do have don’t compare to you. I really just wanna climb your fire escape and kiss you lots. Are you writing good? I miss you so much._

_Race was wondering if you could send a pack of Coronas over. He says european cigars taste funny._

_We haven’t seen much action lately. They like to send the experienced guys in first. The boys and I mostly drive cars and change tires. Did you know I can drive a car now?_

_Write back soon, okay? And send a picture of yourself. The men here aren’t nearly as interesting to draw._

_Love,  
Jack Kelly_

Katherine laughs to herself, her eyes brimming with happy tears. She lays the letter down on the table, then hurries over to her desk and pulls out a piece of her own paper and a pen. Her neat handwriting quickly takes up the page, and she grabs another. With all of the words in her mind and her heart, she fills three pages.

Katherine sits back, her hand cramping from writing so fast. Standing, she goes to her closet and pulls out a fabric hat box. Digging through it, she finds a small photo album and pulls out a small portrait of herself that her father had made her take on her 18th birthday. She slips the photograph into the paper, folds her pages and slides them into her own envelope, then writes out the address on Jack’s letter.

Katherine retires to bed, planning to send Bill a telegram in the morning asking him to buy a pack of Coronas for her.


	4. October 1942

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, shit.” Jack says.
> 
> “What?” Davey looks over.
> 
> “What day is it?”
> 
> “October 29th.” Specs says.
> 
> “Yep,” Jack nods, “Today’s my birthday.”

Jack hops out of the driver's seat of the Willys Jeep, taking a moment as his heavy boots sink into the soft earth. He unbuttons the top of his olive green jumpsuit and ties the sleeves around his waist, relishing in the cool evening air that washes over his exposed arms, sending a refreshing chill across his sweaty skin. The dog tags on the chain around his neck clink together as he walks to the large canvas tent across the open green space.

As Jack walks, he takes in the camp. Small groups of men sit around, relaxing as much as they can. The Egyptian sun is setting, casting an orange glow across the faces of Jack’s fellow soldiers. There are a few small fires popping up, and sounds of laughter and merriment float through the air.

Jack reaches the main tent and steps inside, immediately saluting when he sees the commanding officers, General Dwight D. Eisenhower and Major General George S. Patton Jr. The men briefly look up from their map and nod at Jack.

“At ease.” The Major General says.

“Sir,” Jack says, lowering his hand to his side, “The patrol squad has returned. Nothing to report.”

“Excellent. Enjoy your evening, son.”

Jack nods and leaves the tent, outwardly releasing a breath once he’s outside. Davey always made fun of him for holding his breath when he was talking to a superior. Speaking of which-

“Jack!” Davey calls, waving him over to a fire. Jack grins as he approaches, seeing Specs and Race sitting around the same fire. He claps Davey on the shoulder as he sits on the log beside him.

“Evenin’, gentlemen.” Jack says.

“Saved you a bowl.” Race says around his cigar, passing Jack a bowl of stew.

Jack accepts the bowl gratefully and begins eating.

“You missed mail call.” Davey says, handing over a large envelope. “This came for you.”

Jack sets his bowl down and opens the envelope, adorned with Katherine’s familiar neat, linear writing. He pulls out a letter, a very faint but distinct floral scent wafting into the air.

“Ah, shit.” Jack says.

“What?” Davey looks over.

“What day is it?”

“October 29th.” Specs says.

“Yep,” Jack nods, “Today’s my birthday.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Race exclaims, “Seriously?”

Davey claps Jack on the shoulder as Jack grins. “Yeah, I guess that puts me at nineteen.”

Race whistles. “One hell of a place to turn nineteen.”

Jack looks out past the edge of the camp, at the Egyptian desert that stretches out for miles, with the setting sun bathing the camp in deep oranges that Jack has learned to know mean another day of bloodshed and hell is ending, getting ready for the next one. He longs for his oil paints, and for graceful porcelain hands and soft auburn curls, and sunsets that don’t hold the threat of another day of horror.

“Further west than I thought I’d ever get.” Jack says. The boys nod. Jack turns to Davey.

“Still got that pencil?” He asks. Davey nods and hands it over to Jack. 

“Happy birthday, pal. If we had known, we would have-”

“‘S fine. I wouldn’ta known myself if it weren’t for Kath.” Jack replies, and stands. “I’m gonna turn in. See you tomorrow, fellas.”

The boys murmur their good-nights as Jack heads off towards the sleeping tent. He enters and makes his way to his bunk, sitting on the edge of the thin mattress. He reaches under his pillow and pulls out a small, leather-bound journal; his going-away present from Katherine. 

Tucked in between the front cover and the first page is the small portrait of Katherine that Jack had requested she send over. Jack takes it out and looks at it. He never gets tired of looking at it.

Jack tears out a page from the journal and begins writing. Before he can finish his first sentence, a bell rings from outside the tent. Jack springs to his feet, tucking his paper, pencil, journal, and photograph back under his pillow before rushing outside. The Major General and General are both standing above the assembled crowd. Jack joins the back of the mob, saluting with the rest of his fellow soldiers.

“At ease.” The Major General says. “Gentlemen, this has been a period of intense training and recovery, since our last failed mission in July. It’s time for a new mission. On November 8th, we will be putting Operation Torch into action. We will push through the French Control in Casablanca, Oran, and Algiers, then onto Tunis, and across the Mediterranean into Sicily and then into Italy and the rest of Europe. Rest up, and get ready. This is going to be a big push. We’ll be working with the Brits, and thanks to General Eisenhower's three-pronged plan, we should have an easy victory.”

The crowd cheers, and the Major General holds up his hand for silence. “That’s the spirit, men. Now, get to sleep. Lights out in ten minutes!”

The crowd disperses, heading off towards the variety of sleeping tents. Jack turns back to his tent, and makes it back to his journal. He finishes up his letter and drops it into the mail bag.

Davey climbs into his bunk, beside Jack’s. “You scared?”

“Do I look scared?” Jack replies, peeling off his jumpsuit. He’s left in nothing but his briefs and his undershirt as he too climbs into his bunk.. “But, uh, ask me again in the morning.”

Davey nods. “The sooner we get into Italy, the sooner the war ends.” 

“That’s the hope.” Jack says.

“Anyhow, goodnight Jack,” Davey sighs, closing his eyes, “And happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Dave.” Jack murmurs. "See ya tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) i'm trying to keep this as historically accurate as possible, in terms of battles and commanding officers and dates and locations. the only full-scale ww2 campaign i know anything about is the Italian Campaign (and the only stuff i know about THAT is from the Canadian part) so that's where the boys are heading. ppl who actually know stuff about ww2 don't @ me i'm trying my best  
> 2) Jack doesn't have a canon birthday so i made one up (and yes it is different from the last time i made up a birthday for him)  
> 3) I've watched Hacksaw Ridge, Saving Private Ryan, Dunkirk, and the Imitation Game all within the last month and that's the extent of my knowledge as to how people within the actual military behaved/talked/addressed each other so i'm sorry
> 
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any and all feedback! I have a bio diploma in 8 1/2 hours!

**Author's Note:**

> heyo i'm back and with more angst than ever


End file.
